A Warrior's Farewell
by Bellantara
Summary: After Sven dies, Lance finds himself taking care of a lost and bereft Romelle. How far will he go?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: For Tara, my partner in crime, whose little dream gave me the plot bunny for this.

Princess Romelle sat at her husband's bedside, smoothing the gray-streaked black hair away from his face, listening to his increasingly labored breathing. His lashes fluttered, then his eyes opened, fixing her with his familiar midnight blue gaze. "_Min kjærlighet_," Sven whispered weakly.

"I'm here, my love." She took his hand, holding it to her chest, feeling the tears well up in spite of her determination to be strong.

Sven found the strength to squeeze her hand. "Don't. . . cry. Love you. . .alvays vit you." He dragged in a deep breath. "The children. . .my broders?"

"We're here, Pappa," Mira said from his other side, putting a hand on his shoulder. Erik stood behind his sister, eyes red, saying nothing.

"The team's coming," Romelle said softly, kissing his hand. Lance had been the one to take her call; she hadn't had to say a word. One look at her face, and he had hit the Castle alarms, swearing. "Lance said, 'tell that damned Viking that if he dies before we get there, I'll kill him.'"

"He. . . vould," Sven whispered, wheezing a laugh. "Damn. . .McClain."

"Back at you, Holgersson," a familiar drawl said from the door. Lance strode in, followed by Keith and the rest of the Force. Mira and Erik gave way to their aunt and uncles; Romelle would have moved also, but found herself stopped by a blue-gloved hand on her shoulder. "You stay right there," Lance whispered to her, and moved to stand by Sven's head. "What is this crap, anyway, Viking? Dying? What kind of bullshit is THAT?" His Nebraska drawl was light, full of his usual sarcasm, but everyone could see the tears in his green eyes.

"Not . . . my choice, min bror." Sven gently freed his hand from Romelle's grasp and wrapped it in Lance's flight suit, tugging weakly. The Red Lion pilot knelt, coming down to Sven's eye level. "I haf. . a task for you. . . vant a. . . promise."

"Name it," Lance answered immediately.

"Romelle. . ." Sven locked gazes with Lance, all of his old intensity in his eyes. "Promise . . . me . . . take care of her?"

"You never even had to ask," Lance choked. "Damn, Sven. . . brother. . ." The tears spilled over; Lance let them fall.

"I vould haf. . .done noting. . . different, Lance McClain." Midnight blue held watery green. "Love you. . . broder, alvays."

"Love you too, Sven Holgersson, you damned crazy Viking." Lance leaned over and embraced Sven fiercely, then stood and stepped back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Keith took his place, kneeling and clasping Sven's hand between his own. "Sven, my friend, my brother. . ."

"Keit. . ." Sven closed his eyes for a moment, breathing ragged, then opened them again. "Min broder. . .I vill miss you. Keep dis lot in line, ja? Und never forget dat I love you."

"As if I ever could," Keith smiled, tears in his eyes. "Goodbye, my brother." He embraced Sven quickly, then got up and hurried into the hall before he broke down completely.

Sven's eyes drifted closed again; clearly the stubborn Viking will was weakening. Allura didn't kneel; she sat on the bed opposite her cousin. "Hey, there," she whispered, tears flowing down her face.

"Min lille prinsesse." Sven didn't open his eyes, but his hand slid down the covers to find hers. "Long vay. . .from dat. . . staircase. . ja? So proud. . .woman you. . . became."

"I couldn't have done it without you," she answered, squeezing his hand. She had fallen—she thought—head over heels for the dark Norwegian the moment she saw him, no matter that she was 16 and he was far older at 24. Sven had recognized the crush for what it was, and had paid gentle court to her, humoring her, playing boyfriend, going so far as to give her her first kiss, sweet and innocent. Only when he was hurt and left did she realize her true feelings were for Keith.

"Ja. . .you vould haf.. . . Just. . .helped. Look. . . after. . . my brothers." Sven squeezed her hand; it was the barest movement. "Go. . . to. . .Keit now. Needs. . . you." Allura nodded and kissed his cheek, then slipped from the room. Hunk and Pidge said their own farewells to their former teammate and melted from the room, leaving the Holgersson family together. Mira and Erik exchanged a glance and stepped out as well. "Alone. . .at last. . . min elske," Sven whispered. "Do. . .something. . . for me?"

"Anything," Romelle whispered tearfully. "Oh, goddess, Sven. . ."

The Norwegian made an effort and opened his eyes again. "Come. . . here. Lie. . .down vit. . . me. I. . . vant. . . to go. . . vit you. . . in my arms. Please. . . min kjærlighet."

Romelle quickly shifted around to lie against him, head on his shoulder, and pulled his arms around her. "I love you so much, Erik Sven," she sobbed. "I can't go on without you. I'm not that strong!"

"You. . . can. Strongest. . . I know." Sven found a last bit of strength, and leaned up to kiss her passionately. "Remember. . . me. Jeg. . . elsker. . . deg, alltid." The last word came out on a sigh; his arms went limp around her.

Out in the hallway, the Holgersson children and the Voltron Force stiffened, startled from their tears, as an unearthly wail came from the royal bedroom. The Viking navigator of the Voltron Force, fiercest yet most vulnerable of them, was gone. Outside in the courtyard, Blue Lion lifted her head and let out a mournful yowl.


	2. Chapter 2

Lance woke, disoriented, to someone calling his name. He opened his eyes to find Mira Holgersson crouching in front of him, careful not to touch him. "Sorry to wake you, Uncle Lance," she said softly, "but Mamma's being weird. She walked out of Pappa's room and wasn't even crying, talking about calling the Garrison, and getting Pappa's uniform together. . ." Her midnight blue eyes were filled with tears. "I'm scared for her, Uncle Lance. Something's not right."

His brain finally kicked in, reminding him of where he was and why. "Stay here; I'll go talk to her." He squeezed his niece's shoulders and got to his feet, heading for where he knew Sven and Romelle had their offices. Keith looked up as he walked past; Lance jerked his head towards Mira. "Romelle's lost it," he said softly, so only Keith heard.

"Do you want me to come with you?" the King of Arus asked, starting to get up.

Lance shook his head. "Stay here, keep Mira and Erik distracted. If I can't talk Romelle down. . ." he let the sentence trail off, and Keith nodded. Lance clapped him on the shoulder and slipped out.

Romelle's office was, as he expected, locked, but Sven had used the same override codes for years, and it only took a minute for Lance to open the door. The Princess of Pollux was busily writing, and didn't even look up. "Whatever it is, I'm busy."

"With _what_?" Lance asked incredulously. "Romelle, _your husband just died!_ What the hell is so damned important that you have to do it _now?_"

She glanced up, irritation on her features. "Royal funerals don't plan themselves, Lance!"

"I know that. I also know Sven planned his funeral six months ago, as soon as the docs told him he was out of time." Lance came around the desk to look at what she was doing, and saw she had a to-do list made out. He took the pen from her hand and began crossing things off as he spoke. "Make announcement to the people. . . Bandor can do that. Contact Galaxy Garrison . . . Keith or I will do that; we can reach Marshal Dukane at odd hours no one else can, and he'd want to know from us anyway. Get Sven's uniform together. . . _I_ will do that, myself. Talk to the Archbishop about final plans . . . this is what you have staff for." He put the pen down, then thought about it and picked it back up. "Your to-do list has one thing and one thing only on it." He quickly wrote, _Shut the Princess of Pollux up and let Sven's wife out to grieve._

Romelle's eyes flashed. "Do you think I'm not? I have to be strong, Lance! I have a position to uphold!"

"To hell with that." Lance's voice was low; his eyes glittered with unshed tears. "You were loved by one of the best damned men I've ever known, Romelle. He deserves your tears!"

"I _can't,_" Romelle wailed, jumping to her feet. "Don't you understand? One of the last things he asked me was not to cry, and if I start, I'll never stop!"

Lance's expression softened. "Oh, honey. . . I know that's not what he meant." He put his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. "Sven never would have wanted you to be that cold, Melle. Come on. Let it out. I'll cry with you, if it helps." He gave her a shadow of his usual grin.

She looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. "How do I live without him, Lance? He was everything to me. . ." she broke down in sobs; Lance pulled her against his chest, stroking her hair, ignoring his own tears.

"I know, sweetheart. I know. And you were everything to him. . . Go on and cry, Romelle. I'm here, I've got you. I'll always be here." He closed his eyes and tucked her head under his chin, letting his own tears fall as she soaked his flight suit with hers. Keith and Sven had always been his brothers, but his relationship with Sven had been closer, even before the Norwegian sacrificed himself to save Lance's life. And this time there would be no joy of finding him alive later to counteract the agony of loss. Especially when Lance knew that very sacrifice was what had torn Sven from them all far too soon. THAT was a pain and a guilt the Red Lion pilot would carry to his own grave. He tightened his arms around Romelle, his own sobs joining hers as he let out the pain he knew he'd keep locked down around the rest of the team.

As Romelle continued to cry, and Lance with her, he moved them slowly to the sofa. He sat down with the princess in his lap, holding her and rocking her. He wasn't trying to soothe her; just assuring her of his presence, supporting her as best he could. Finally her tears lessened and she looked up at him. "What am I going to do? He . . . he always took care of me... I loved him so much, Lance!"

"And he loved you," Lance whispered, his own tears having taken his voice. "You made him happier than I've ever known him to be, Romelle. Don't try to sort things now. Just . . . grieve for him. Everything else can wait."

Romelle curled into his chest, sniffling. Lance held her, rubbing her back and whispering soothingly until she fell asleep. As he settled her into the couch, a noise at the door caught his attention, and he looked up to see Allura slipping in. "Keith sent me to stay with her," she whispered. "He said the two of you should try to catch Jeff before he leaves his office." The Queen of Arus came and sat next to him, wiping the tears from his cheeks with gloved fingers. "I'm so sorry, Lance. Keith's taking this hard; I can only imagine what it's doing to you."

Lance took a deep breath. "I'll be all right; I have to be, for Romelle. I promised Sven I'd take care of her." He smoothed Romelle's hair back and stood, heading out the door to find Keith and break the news to their oldest surviving friend.


	3. Chapter 3

After twenty-five years, the Voltron Force was as familiar with the Polluxian castle as they were the Castle of Lions, and so Lance easily made his way to the communications center. Keith sat in front of the main console, closing out a communication as he walked in. "Just got hold of Bandor," Keith glanced up as Lance perched on the corner of the console. "He and Irenea will be here first thing in the morning, and he'll take care of the official stuff. How's Romelle?"

"How do you think?" Lance returned. "Sven's been everything to her since she was 16; she's completely lost. This is NOT gonna be easy, brother."

Keith shook his head. "No, it isn't. Let's see if we can get hold of Dukane." He turned to the board, rapidly typing in the Space Marshal's private com code and his own priority code. Five minutes later, Jeff Dukane's familiar face looked back at them solemnly from the other side of the galaxy.

"Kogane, McClain." He sighed. "Middle of the night on Pollux; I'm guessing this isn't a social call. How is he?"

"Gone," Keith answered quietly.

"Ah, hell." Jeff dropped his head for a minute; when he looked back up, tears shone in his eyes. "I know we were looking for it, but. . . damn. He was one of the best."

"Yeah, he was. Really gonna miss him," Lance said softly, his own tears starting again in spite of himself. "Way too damned soon. He deserved better, you know?"

Jeff nodded. "He sure did. It's the end of an era."

Lance turned away from the monitor, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"How soon can you be here?" Keith asked, looking to distract from Lance's distress.

"No idea. That's a Cliff question." Admiral Sheffield, still Jeff's right hand after so many years, came in, eyes suspiciously damp.

"Just waiting for his missus and mine," Cliff answered, Australian accent strong as ever. "I cleared his calendar, ordered his ship prepped, and called Lisa and Ginger soon as I saw the Pollux encryption on Jeff's line. Should be there tomorrow afternoon, mates. Give Melle our love, yeah?"

"We sure will. See you guys tomorrow." Keith closed the connection and turned to Lance. "Lance. . ."

"Don't say it," the lanky pilot snapped. "Just don't, all right? I'm going to go put Sven's uniform together, like I promised Romelle I would. Somebody needs to go get our junk together too." He hopped down from the console and was gone before Keith could say another word.

Sven's body was gone from his and Romelle's room, but Lance could still feel the Norwegian's presence in the room he had shared with his _elske_ for so many years. He quickly opened the closet door, found Sven's dress uniform, and laid it on the stripped bed to check the medals. A noise at the window caught his attention, and he glanced up to see the biggest raven he'd ever seen in his life perched on the sill. "Holy Mother of God," he breathed, going over and carefully opening the window. The raven calmly hopped onto his wrist, fixing him with a bright ebony gaze. It assessed him for a long minute, then let out a solemn, "Quork!"

Lance was awestruck. Ravens of ANY size were unheard of on Pollux or Arus, and he couldn't imagine where this one had come from. Suddenly his mind went back almost thirty years, to the flight from Earth to Arus. They had all told stories from their childhood to pass the time; Sven had told them the old Norse legends, of Odin and the ravens that were his messengers, of the ravens his Viking ancestors had used to direct their raids. He blinked. "You're a message, aren't you?" he asked the big bird, not really expecting an answer.

To his shock, the raven locked gazes with him. "Quork!" it said emphatically. As Lance stared at the bird, he heard Sven's faint voice in his head. _Remember your promise, min bror. Tell min elskede I love her. And know this; nothing would I change. Do not blame yourself. Farewell._ The bird shook itself and flew out the open window; Lance stared after it for a moment, then sank to his knees, shaking with sobs.

Not even Keith knew the guilt he carried over Sven's injuries; he was all too aware that it should have been him lying in that dusty square, life bleeding away. After he resurfaced, Sven had assured him repeatedly that he did not blame Lance; that it had been his own choice, and that having Romelle was worth every bit of the pain he felt. It didn't stop Lance from being consumed with guilt every time he saw Sven wince and grab his back, or heard the Norwegian tell his children he wasn't feeling well enough to play with them. And when the doctors had told Sven first that he would not live to see 60, then just six months ago told him he was dying . . . Lance had been devastated. He thought he had hidden it, especially from Sven, but learned differently when the navigator showed up on Arus shortly after calling the team to tell them his prognosis.

Sven had gotten off the ship stiffly, barely able to walk, and had gone straight for Lance, draping his arm over the Red Lion pilot's shoulders. "Come vit me; ve need to talk." Lance, unable to speak, had nodded and allowed his former teammate to steer him to a private balcony. Once there, Sven had folded his arms and leaned against the wall in a shadow of his normal pose. "Now. Vhat de hell is going on vit you? I saw de look on your face vhen I called; only Romelle has been more upset. Talk to me."

Lance had paced, agitated. "You really have to ask, Sven? You're fucking _dying._ You won't see your grandchildren, won't grow old with Romelle, _and it's all my fucking fault!"_ He whirled to face the Norwegian, tears on his face. "I destroyed you, because I just _had_ to chase that damned cat, and never thought once about Haggar being there too. God, how the hell can you even stand to look at me?"

Sven had pushed away from the wall painfully, then crossed the balcony and put his hands on Lance's shoulders. "I can stand to look at you because you are min bror, and I. . ." he hesitated a moment. "Because I love you, Lance. As I love all de team. You are my family. I knew vhen I followed you and saw Haggar dat I vould probably die right dere. And I vas at peace vit dat, if it meant you and de others vould live. More dan dat. . .had I not been hurt, had I not been captured and sent to Doom, I vould never have met Romelle. She vould have died in de Pit of Skulls. So. . ." the Norwegian gave one of his rare smiles. "you see, I owe you a great deal. And I haf not one regret. Now, I vill not haf you spending vhat time I haf left miserable over vhat cannot be changed. Help me enjoy vhat time I haf left, ja?"

Lance had agreed, and had done his best to help Sven make the most of his last months of life. And now, he was faced with much the same situation he had faced on that balcony. "He sacrificed his life for mine," he whispered, voice roughened by his tears. "I owe it to him to _live_ it. And to keep the promise I made him, to take care of his most precious treasure. And I will," he said to the open window. "I swear it, brother. I'll take care of Romelle the rest of my life, no matter what I have to do." He took a deep breath, wiped his face with his glove, and got to his feet, picking up Sven's uniform and heading out.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning of Sven's funeral dawned with a storm worthy of his North Atlantic homeland. Lance glanced out the guest room window and watched as cold rain and hail pounded the castle, and a frigid wind howled mournfully. A small sound in the room recalled his attention to the bed, where Romelle slept fitfully. Quietly he sat beside her, hand on her shoulder, hoping he could be strong enough for both of them, grateful that she had said no to the sedatives the Royal Physician had wanted to give her. Painful as it was, he knew from experience that she needed to remember what was happening. She tossed and murmured, and Lance wondered what her dreams held. "Sleep, little sister," he whispered, smoothing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "You'll need it later."

Romelle stood on a snow-covered cliff, looking down into a river gorge, a cold wind swirling her cloak around her. The scene put her in mind of Sven, and she closed her eyes at the pain in her heart, tears welling in her eyes. _"Shhh, min kjaerlighet,"_ a familiar voice whispered as callused hands closed on her shoulders. _"I promised I vould alvays be vit you, and I am."_ Startled, Romelle spun to find herself looking up at a young, healthy Sven. He was dressed as he had been when she first saw him, and an enormous black bird perched on his shoulder.

"Sven!" she cried, flinging herself into his arms. His embrace tightened around her, and she was lost in the cool pine scent of his strength. "Oh, goddess, I can't do this! Please don't leave me!" she sobbed.

_"Alvays am I in your heart, min elskede,"_ he murmured. _"But much as it hurt to leave you, I could no longer bear the pain of staying. My body vas destroyed; I had to leave it." _She felt him pull away, and looked up through her tears into his gaze. _"I could not leave vitout seeing you von more time, and so I asked Sigrun for this last favor."_ He glanced to the side, and Romelle followed his gaze to a heavily armored young woman, bearing a striking resemblance to her, who stood just out of earshot. _"She is a Valkyrie, come to take me to my reward,"_ Sven continued, _"But she agreed that I might see you once more, and give you a gift."_ He leaned down and kissed her, as tender and loving as he ever had. _"I vill alvays love you, Romelle Amarrissa, and alvays vill I vatch over you. Vhen it is your time, I vill come for you. Until den. . ."_ he placed his hand on her chest, palm over her heart. As she watched, blue light flared around and beneath it, and a cool sensation washed over her. Sven moved his hand, twitching her cloak and dress aside to reveal a snarling blue lioness, a bouquet of white roses between her paws and just over Romelle's heart. _"Remember me, min kjaerlighet. Remember our love, and know I take it vit me." _She closed her eyes as he leaned down for another kiss; when she opened them, he was gone and she stood alone.

"Sven, don't go!" she screamed, sitting up into a pair of strong hands. She fought to get away, then a voice finally broke through her sleep.

"Romelle, Romelle! Wake up, you're dreaming!" Lance held her carefully but firmly, and was finally rewarded when her eyes flew open wide.

"It. . .it was just a dream? But. . . I felt his arms, I could _smell_ him! And. . . ." Romelle yanked her nightgown off, oblivious to Lance's gasp of surprise and furious blush, looking, looking. . .and there it was. Just as in her dream, the lioness snarled from her left breast, fur the exact blue of Sven's eyes. "Oh, Goddess," she breathed. "It was real. He _was_ here! Sven. . ." Her tears welled up again, but were abruptly cut off by a choked noise. "Lance!" she scrabbled for her gown, the covers, _anything _to cover herself. "Oh, I am _so_ sorry!" She looked around the room, out the window, anywhere but at her husband's best friend. What had she been thinking?

Lance took a breath and got control of his embarrassment, taking her hands when he heard her gown settle back into place. "It's all right, Romelle," he said gently. "You just surprised me, is all. What was that all about, anyway?" She haltingly recounted the dream, ending by modestly pulling her gown aside and showing him the top of the tattoo. Lance reached out and carefully traced it with his fingertips, wonder in his eyes. "I'll be damned," he said softly. "I've seen some strange, powerful shit in my life, but this. . ." he shook his head. "I knew the Viking loved you; I didn't know just how much." Romelle started to cry again; he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight and rocking her as she cried, stroking her hair. "I miss him too," he whispered, tears running down his own cheeks. "I promise to take care of you, Romelle. I'll always be here for you, no matter what." She didn't say anything, just clung to him sniffling.

A discreet knock on the door brought Elena, Romelle's maid, to get her dressed and ready for the funeral. Lance gently disentangled himself from the princess, only to have her grab him again. "Please, don't leave me," she begged, blue eyes huge and tear-filled.

"Sweetheart, I have to get ready too, and I can't stay here while you're getting dressed," Lance answered softly, wiping her tears with the back of his fingers. "I promise, I'll be back as soon as I can. You'll be fine with Elena." He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then headed for his own room, laying his dark grey dress uniform, sword, and red sword belt out, carefully checking the ridiculous number of medals before heading in to shower and shave. Thirty minutes later, looking every bit the hero he was, he knocked on Romelle's door. Elena opened it and stepped back to let him cross to the sad little figure in black that sat before the vanity.

"Time to go, Romelle," he said quietly, putting a gloved hand out to help her to her feet. She put her hand in his, gazing up at him trustingly as she rose.

"You'll stay with me? Please?" she asked, clinging to his arm.

"I'll walk you out, but I can't stay, Romelle. I'm one of Sven's. . .escorts," he finished lamely. "You're walking with the kids, Bandor, and Irenea, remember?"

"No!" Romelle shook her head wildly, tightening her grip. "Please, don't leave me! I can't do this!"

"Shhh. . .all right, all right," Lance soothed. "Let me talk to Keith and see what we can do, OK? Give me a minute." She nodded sadly and let go of him; he stepped into the hall and pulled out his com. "Keith, we've got a problem. Romelle's hysterical; begging me to walk with her in the procession." He paused for a minute. "I can't leave her like this, brother. What can we do?"

There was a brief, muffled discussion on Keith's end of the com, then the Commander of the Voltron Force spoke clearly. "Stay with her, Lance. Alfor says he will be honored to take your place."

"Tell him I owe him one," Lance answered, relieved that the Crown Prince of Arus was willing to fill in on short notice. "See you out front, then. McClain out." He returned the com to his pocket, and went back into Romelle's room. As he entered, she looked up hopefully, and he smiled at her. "Everything's settled; I'm all yours, little sister. Ready to go?"

"No," she said softly, taking his arm. "But I'll do what I have to. Just. . .stay with me."

"I'll be right with you," Lance promised as they walked out. "Lean on me, Romelle; don't think you have to be strong."

When they got outside, a flag-draped casket sat on a gun carriage at the foot of the stairs, with the Force, Jeff, Cliff, and Alfor guarding it. Romelle gasped at the sight of it; Lance exchanged a glance with Keith, and the escorts moved away and out of earshot. "I. . .I want to say goodbye to him alone," Romelle whispered, and Lance nodded, slipping his arm from her grasp.

"Take your time, little sister. I'll be waiting," he answered, then watched her walk slowly down the stairs to the casket. She lay across the head of it, speaking too softly for him to hear, then straightened, tears shining on her face, and turned to him.

"Let's go, Lance," she said quietly. He came down the stairs and offered her his arm; Erik and Mira, followed by Bandor and his wife, fell in behind them, the Force took their positions, and the procession escorting Pollux's greatest hero to his final rest began.


	5. Chapter 5

The cathedral was packed, with only the main aisle open. Sven's casket was borne to a waiting platform in front of the altar, then Keith and Jeff carefully folded the flag back and opened the casket. Sven lay on a bed of white flowers, hands folded on his chest around the hilt of his sword. Guided by Lance, Romelle slowly walked up the aisle and knelt beside the casket, stroking Sven's lifeless fingers, heedless of the tears that dropped onto them. Slowly her hands went to her neck, removing the diamond and sapphire cross Sven had placed there on their wedding night 25 years earlier. Tenderly she draped it over Sven's crossed hands, her fingers lingering on his wedding ring. "Jeg vil alltid elske deg, kan vi møtes igjen snart," she said softly, voice breaking on a sob. Lance went to his knees next to her and helped her rise, guiding her to her seat and wrapping his arm around her, shielding her from curious gazes.

The Archbishop of Pollux came to the head of the casket, sprinkling holy water over Sven and reciting what Lance assumed were prayers. He wasn't listening too closely; religion didn't hold too much sway in his life to begin with, and his attention was focused on the heartbroken blonde princess crying into the side of his dress uniform. Sven really had been her world; he hadn't realized how much until the Norwegian was gone. Lance really didn't see how Romelle was going to live without him. In the back of his mind, a plan started to form. He set it aside to gel and turned his attention to the front of the cathedral as Space Marshal Dukane got up to speak.

Jeff was thoroughly annoyed. The president of the Alliance had called him the night before, giving him instructions on what to say in his speech, dictating a bland, politically safe bunch of mush that distantly mentioned Commander Holgersson but was essentially a sales pitch to get Pollux, and more to the point, Arus, in the Alliance. The two planets had declined membership after the Doom war, citing the abandonment of the Voltron Force to fight Doom singlehandedly, and withdrew Voltron from support of Alliance missions. Ever since, the Alliance had been all but frantic to get them in. Which led to directing Marshal Dukane to give a rah-rah speech touting the Alliance, at the funeral of one of his oldest and dearest friends. As he crossed the stage, and glanced into Sven's casket, something in him snapped. Sven deserved better than what he was about to do, even though defying his orders would mean his career. "Fuck it," he thought to himself, straightening his uniform as he stepped to the podium. Putting his hands on it, he leaned forward and looked out into the crowd, meeting the gazes of Cliff, of Keith, of his beloved Ginger. "Sven Holgersson was the kind of fighter every soldier prays to have guarding his back," he said quietly. "Absolutely lethal, cool and collected in a fight, and willing to give his life for his team. But he was so much more." He took a deep breath. "Sven was a kind, loving, man, devoted to his family. I never knew him to have friends; if you were that close to him, you were his brother, or his sister. And oh my gods, did he love Romelle. His face just lit up whenever her name was mentioned, and corny as it sounds, they absolutely _glowed_ in each other's presence. Then there were his children, Erik and Mirakel. I remember him calling me, telling me of the birth of each of them. He was so proud, so happy. It was the best thing that ever happened to him." He glanced at the casket, eyes shining with unshed tears. "Gonna miss you, Viking. Too damned soon, my brother. Sleep well; we'll take care of them." He turned and walked offstage, briefly stopping to kneel and whisper to a still-distraught Romelle before returning to Ginger's side.

Keith was supposed to speak next, but before he could even get to his feet, the back doors of the cathedral flew open with a bang. As everyone spun to glare at the disruption, a deep blue mist billowed in, taking the shape of a lioness. Slowly the ghostly form paced up the aisle, head hung low, going directly to the casket and sitting for a long moment, head resting on Sven's chest, whimpering loudly. At length it got to its feet and went to Romelle's side, nuzzling her hand. "B-blue?" she whispered, and the spirit purred loudly, rubbing against her. "Oh, Blue! I miss him so much! Why did he have to leave me?" Blue yowled mournfully, then lifted her head to lock gazes with Romelle. _He has not left you, Princess of Pollux,_ Romelle heard in her mind. _So long as you love him, he will always be with you, and watch over you. Remember that, and, when the time comes, remember he would wish you happy above all. Farewell._ The spirit dissolved into mist and faded from the church; Romelle turned and sobbed into Lance's jacket as he held her, rubbing her back and staring at the spot where the spirit had been.

In the hush afterwards, Keith walked to the front and put his hands on the podium. "Well, that's quite an act to follow," he said softly. "King Alfor wrote more than once that the bonds between Lions and pilots were stronger than even they knew; I guess we just saw proof of that." He looked at Romelle for a moment, then back to the congregation at large. "Sven was from a region of Earth called Norway; he traced his ancestry back over two thousand years, to a group of explorers and warriors called Vikings. He was very proud of his heritage, and I think it only fitting to say goodbye to him with a prayer from their funeral rites." Keith closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and began to speak in slow, clear, Norwegian. "Lo, gjør det jeg ser min far. Lo, gjør det jeg ser min mor. Lo, gjør det jeg ser mine søstre og mine brødre. Jeg ser en linje av mitt folk tilbake til begynnelsen. De kaller meg til å ta min plass i haller av Valhalla hvor den modige kan leve evig." He gestured to Jeff, Cliff and the others; as one they moved to the casket, taking positions around it. Lance whispered to Romelle, and the princess stood, head bowed, and went forward, Lance's arm around her. One final time she knelt and kissed Sven's cold lips; as she stood with Lance's help and moved back, Keith and Jeff closed the casket and replaced the flag. The Force then lifted the casket, carrying it out of the church, Romelle walking behind it, supported by Lance.

After Sven was laid to rest in the royal crypt, Romelle went to lie down, aided by the sedatives her doctor had prescribed. Lance stayed with her, holding her hand, until she fell asleep; he then slipped out of her room and made his way to the reception Bandor was holding, looking for Keith. Once he found the Commander, he pulled him into a private corner. "We have to get back to Arus soon," Keith said quietly. "Probably leave first thing in the morning; how much longer are you going to stay?"

Lance took a breath. "For good. Romelle's a complete wreck; she can't be alone, the kids have to get back to the Academy, and Bandor has his own family and duties to tend. I've given this a lot of thought, Keith; I'm resigning from the Force, effective immediately." He held out Red's key.

Keith was stunned; that was the last thing he had expected to hear. Lance's bond to Red was the tightest of any of them; for him to give that up. . . "Are you sure, Lance?"

"I am. Alfor's more than ready to take my place; Red's been hinting for months that he wants him." Lance tilted his head. "I'll always be there when you need me, you know that. But. . . Romelle needs me more, and I promised Sven. It's the only way, Keith. "

Keith nodded, reluctantly, and took the key from Lance's outstretched hand. "I understand. It won't be the same without you, brother." He pulled Lance into a firm embrace; when they separated, their eyes were suspiciously damp. "You know we'll expect you for Thanksgiving, you and Romelle."

"Wouldn't miss it." He wiped his eyes. "Better make the rounds and get back to her; last thing I want is for her to wake up alone." Lance squeezed Keith's shoulder, then went in search of his other teammates. Tears were shed when each of them learned he was staying; Allura cried the most. After promising to stay in touch, and to visit often, he went back to Romelle's room, settling in a chair beside her bed, hand holding hers. He had promised to stay, and stay he would; perhaps one day he could tell her. . . he shook his head. "When the time is right, McClain. Just be here for now." One day. . .he sighed. Until then, if it ever came, he would keep his promise, protecting Romelle, letting her lean on him as a brother.

A/N: Keith's prayer comes from a movie, _The Thirteenth Warrior,_ but is a genuine Viking prayer, thousands of years old. The translation:

Lo, there do I see my father.  
Lo, there do I see my mother, my sisters and my brothers.  
Lo, there do I see the line of my people back to the beginning.  
Lo, they do call to me.  
They bid me take my place on Asgard in the halls of Valhalla,  
Where the brave may live forever.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, Lance went out before dawn and sat in Red's cockpit. A sense of mournful resignation surrounded him, and he smiled softly. "You know it's the right thing, old friend," he said quietly. "I can't take care of Romelle from Arus, and. . .I'm not getting any younger anyways."

_I know,_ came the mental reply, laced with sadness. _Still. . .you have been my partner a very long time, and I do not like parting from you. I will miss you, Fireheart._

"I'll miss you too. . ." Lance trailed his fingers along the console and controls, remembering every scratch and dent. "But you're OK with this?"

_As all right as I may be. _Red paused. _Truthfully, we have discussed this for some time. While each of you will always be bonded to us, the simple fact is that war is for the young. The prince and I will work well together, and I know the others have selected their own new pilots. And you are quite right; the Princess of Pollux needs you. Without Frostwhisperer, she is lost and unbalanced; Blue fears she may do something rash._

Lance sighed. "Yeah, me too. Damn." He got to his feet reluctantly. "Better get to breakfast; goodbye, brother mine." A red mist swirled around the cockpit, quickly taking the form of a massive, loudly purring lion. The pilot went to his knees, burying his face in the lion's mane as he wept and the lion nuzzled against him. They stayed that way for a long time, then Lance got to his feet, wiping his face on his arm. The lion faded, and Lance hurried out without a backwards glance.

Inside, the team was eating breakfast with Bandor and Irenea; Romelle was nowhere to be seen. Lance quietly told Bandor of his decision to leave the Force and take care of Romelle; the king was absolutely gleeful, and it took every bit of Lance's self-control not to deck the little snot when he figured out why. Bandor had the usual Polluxian male attitude that women were useless except to bear children; he had all but ignored Romelle since she married Sven, and was only too happy to dump his widowed sister in someone else's lap. _After all she and Sven did to help him rebuild this damned planet,_ Lance snarled to himself. He forgot his anger as Romelle wandered in, hair uncombed, in the dress she'd worn yesterday. _Son of a bitch. . ._he jumped to his feet and went to her, putting a gentle arm around her shoulders and guiding her to the breakfast table. As she looked around with vacant eyes, he got her a plate of scrambled eggs, softly coaxing her to eat. Sadly he watched as she blindly ate, clearly not registering her surroundings or what she was putting in her mouth. _Red was right; she's absolutely lost. How the hell do I fix this? _Can_ I fix it? Goddamnit, Sven. Wish I had the confidence in me that _you_ did. _

All too soon, breakfast was over and the team said their goodbyes. Lance swallowed a lump as he handed Red's key to a suddenly ridiculously-young Alfor; the prince was pale as he accepted it, promising to take good care of the lion. Lance shook his hand, embraced his teammates, then walked to the window and watched the lions roar into the stratosphere. When they were out of sight, he slowly turned and sat down beside Romelle, encouraging her to finish her breakfast. Bandor watched them impassively, then leaned over and whispered to Irenea, who stood and walked out. When she was gone, Bandor turned back to his sister. "Romelle? Romelle!" As Lance watched, Romelle's head slowly turned to face her brother, her face expressionless. "Irenea and I are going to resume our tour today. We will be gone two weeks. I want you gone from the palace when we return." Romelle nodded vaguely, still expressionless, and Bandor stood to walk out of the room, a smug air about him. Lance whispered to Romelle, then followed the king out of the room.

"Bandor, a word with you." The younger man turned and looked up at a livid Lance McClain. "What the _hell_ is _wrong with you?"_ Lance hissed. "Sven's barely cold, and you're kicking his widow, _your fucking sister_, out in the cold? _After everything they've done for this planet?" _The last sentence was screamed, Lance fighting to keep from smashing his fist into the little prick's face.

Bandor remained impassive. "My entire reign, I've been in the shadow of the great heroes, Sven and Romelle. Nothing I've done has ever compared to them. Well, now he's gone, and it's time I had my own space."

Lance felt a cold draft around him, putting him in mind of Sven, and took a deep breath, forcing himself to channel his brother's icy calmness . "You ungrateful little bastard. Fine, if that's the way you want it. You'll never, ever have to see her again. I'll take care of her, since she's been so damned awful to you. Have a nice life, Bandor. Enjoy your throne while you can, cause I'm going to tell the entire galaxy what you're doing to a woman who never did anything but love you." He turned on his heel and went back to the dining room, putting an arm around Romelle and walking her to her room. On the way, he grabbed a maid, coercing her into coming along to bathe and redress Romelle. Once the woman left, Lance himself picked up Romelle's brush, standing behind her and combing her hair out. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he said softly. "To hell with Bandor; I'm not going to leave you."

Romelle blinked at the feel of the brush in her hair, realizing that the person wielding it. . . felt different. Wide-eyed, she glanced up in the mirror to see—"Lance?"

He nodded. "Melle, honey, what do you remember of this morning?"

The question bewildered her. "I—remember going to breakfast, you making me eat. . ." She gasped, eyes going wider. "Oh, Lance, tell me Bandor didn't. . .?"

Lance nodded slowly, coming to kneel beside her and take her hands. "I wish I could say he didn't. I'm sorry, Romelle. I'm so damned sorry. I never realized what a bastard he was."

"What—what's going to happen to me? Where can I go?" Tears spilled down her cheeks, as the hurt over Bandor's treachery mixed with her raw grief.

"I'll take you anywhere you want to go," Lance promised, squeezing her hands. "Arus, Earth. . . we can live wherever you like. I promised Sven to take care of you, and I will."

"B-but. . . the Force. . .they need you. Lance, I can't ask that!"

"You don't have to; Sven did." He smiled reassuringly. "I retired yesterday, and the others will probably do the same. We're getting too old to fly around saving the universe." Lance reached up and wiped her tears. "Wherever you want to go, Melle. I'll always be here for you; you know I love you."

Romelle nodded, slowly getting control of herself, fire sparking in her eyes. "First, though. . .we give my brother his just reward."

Lance squeezed her hands. "That's our Valkyrie. Come on, let's get your things packed and out of here. We'll go to Arus for now; there we can make plans for the future. And ruin your ass of a little brother."


	7. Chapter 7

It was nearly midnight on Arus when Lance landed Sven's ship in front of the Castle. All the lights were on, and he could see Keith waiting. Romelle had once again withdrawn into herself on the flight from Pollux; once he shut the engines down, he unfastened her straps and guided her off the ship to the waiting King of Arus. "Damn that little bastard," Keith said without preamble, jaw tightening as he took in Romelle's vacant expression. "Come inside; the others are waiting, and we've got to talk."

Lance nodded, slipping an arm around Romelle's hunched shoulders and guiding her into the Castle. Keith led them to a conference room, where Hunk, Pidge, and Allura waited. "Bandor's got every legal right to do this," Pidge said grimly as Lance seated Romelle. "Under Polluxian law, an unmarried woman is the property of her nearest male relative. Everything she owns just became his, and he can toss her out if he wants to."

"Doesn't make it right," Hunk growled. "I'd love to have five minutes with him, tell him what I think."

"Line starts behind _me_," Lance said quietly, arm still around Romelle. "So, what do we do? Damned if I'm going to let him just treat her like garbage he found in the street."

"For starters, he just cost Pollux her closest ally," Allura spoke up. "That he would treat a heroine and widow of a hero in such fashion. . .Arus will not be associated with so cruel a reign, no matter how legal." She turned to Romelle, putting a gentle hand on her cousin's shoulder. "Melle? Romelle, can you hear me?" When Romelle finally looked _at_ and not _through_ her, she continued, "You have a home here, for as long as you need. Bandor won't dare take you from here."

"Have to go through all of us first," Hunk rumbled, and the others nodded agreement. "Sawed-off little. . ."

Romelle nodded slowly, squeezing Lance's free hand. "Wh-what about Mira? If he can do this to me. . ."

"She's safe," Keith said firmly. "She's a Garrison cadet, Bandor can't pull her out on a whim. And Jeff will look out for her too."

Romelle looked down at the table, tears welling up. "I wish. . .I wish Sven were here. Bandor wouldn't be doing this. . . Sven wouldn't let him. . ." The tears began to fall, and Lance turned to take her in his arms.

"We won't either, sweetheart," he whispered into her hair. "I promise you that. No matter what it takes. Bandor's not going to hurt you anymore."

The conversation was interrupted by the chime of Keith's COM unit, and a nervous guard reporting a furious King Bandor demanding to speak with his sister. Romelle glanced up, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I. . .I don't want to talk to him. . .he'll make me go back. . ."

"He can't make you go back." Keith knelt at her side, a hand on her back. "Allura and I will protect you here. And you don't have to talk to him, either. Stay here; we'll go talk to him."

The princess took a shaky breath and shook her head. "No, I. . . I need to face him. Y-you'll all be with me?"

"Course we will," Hunk said, gentle as Lance had ever heard the big man. "Don't you worry about a thing."

"That's right," Lance confirmed, as Pidge nodded. "We'll take care of you. Let's go see what his Royal Little Jackassness wants." He helped Romelle to her feet and kept a protective arm around her as the team walked to Castle Control.

Inside, Bandor glowered down from the monitor, face glowing as red as his hair in his fury. "How dare you take my sister?"

"No one _took_ her, King Bandor." Keith's voice was cool and deceptively mild. "In fact, it is my understanding that she left at _your _orders. I must say, I am quite disappointed, both personally and officially, that you would treat your sister in such fashion so soon after she lost her husband."

"As am I." Allura stepped forward, ice in her blue eyes. "Romelle is a heroine of the Doom Wars, and widow of one of the bravest men Arus has ever known. Your treatment of her is beyond reprehensible. I will send a formal note of confirmation, but. . .as of this moment, Arus is terminating her alliance with Pollux. Your treatment of women is inexcusable in modern society."

The king of Pollux paled. "You can't do that! I have every right to treat her as I see fit! It is the law on Pollux!"

"It may be the law, but that doesn't make it right." Lance glared up at the king, arm still protectively around Romelle's thin shoulders. "You made it clear that you didn't want to be bothered with her anymore; why the sudden change of heart?"

Before anyone could say anything, Romelle raised her face to her brother's. "You don't love me, and never have," she said softly. "You are no different than Avok and Father. Now that you've shown your true colors, I only want one thing from you. Let me have Sven, to bury him with his true family here on Arus, where I can be close to him. Please."

Bandor's face twisted in an ugly snarl. "No. He belongs here, where he can be honored. You want to be close to him, come home as you should! Do not make me come after you; you will regret it."

"The only one regretting such an act will be you, Bandor." There was fire and steel in Allura's voice. "You and your fleet are no longer welcome on Arus; any approach by you will be regarded as an act of war by Arus, and we will respond accordingly."

"Please," Romelle whispered, tears flowing down her cheeks. "I'm begging you. Just let me have Sven, Bandor. That's all I want."

"You want him, come home. He stays here." Bandor cut the communication; Romelle sank to her knees with a wail.

Lance went to his own knees beside her, gathering her into his arms and whispering softly. After a few minutes, he stood, still cradling her, and turned to his teammates. "Thank you, all of you. I'm going to take her to my room for the night; we can plan what we're going to do tomorrow." He headed out of Control, still whispering to the sobbing Romelle; Keith walked with him.

"Get some rest, Lance; we'll figure this out somehow." The king clapped his friend on the shoulder, leaned over and kissed Romelle's cheek, then walked away down the hall. Lance carried Romelle into his room, took her shoes off and laid her on the bed, then joined her, wrapping his arms around her and letting her cry into his shirt as they both fell asleep.

_On Pollux, Bandor ranted and raved to his adoring queen for almost an hour before they went to bed facing away from each other. As soon as he fell asleep, he found himself in a barren, snow-covered landscape, a bitter wind howling around him. "Bandor. . .Bandor Mondal!" The wind picked up the snow and swirled it around him; when it died down again, Sven Holgersson stood before him. But he wasn't the quiet, mannerly Space Explorer Bandor had always known; this Sven was dressed in furs, black hair flowing loose, an enormous axe in his right hand. . . and fury flashing in his blue eyes. "Vhat de hell do you tink you are doing, treating Romelle so? I should kill you right here!" Bandor opened his mouth to retort, but found himself unable to speak. Sven advanced on him, hefting the axe menacingly. "Let me be perfectly clear, Bandor. Leave Romelle alone. I care noting for your laws; it vould be in your best interest to forget you haf a sister Romelle. If I haf to come to you again on dis, it vill not go vell for you." He swung the axe suddenly; Bandor dove for the ground, screaming. . . only to wake sitting up in bed, with Irenea shaking him._

Lance woke to a gentle, insistent nudge in his mind. _Fireheart, you must wake. Blue has done something. . .rash. _He sat up, careful not to disturb Romelle, but before he could question Red further, his COM went off, with an excited message that Blue was sitting in front of the Castle, and that the Force was needed immediately. He grabbed his boots and crammed his feet into them, then ran for the front of the Castle. The rest of the team was already standing there, eyes wide, staring at an inexplicably. . _proud_ Blue Lion, lying on the tarmac, an object resting between her paws that Lance recognized as Sven's casket.

As he stared with the others, Blue lifted her head and roared defiantly. An unfamiliar female voice rang in his head, and the heads of the rest of the Force: _Now. He is safe from the little madman, and I will guard him always, as Fireheart will guard his mate._


	8. Chapter 8

A week later, Lance sought out Keith and Allura as they finished a council meeting. "Need some advice, and don't know where to turn but you two," he said quietly, dropping into a chair at the conference table.

"What's wrong?" Allura asked, blue eyes sympathetic.

"Romelle," Lance sighed. "Gods, she's so. . .lost. I don't know what to do to bring her back, and everything seems to remind her of Sven. She's not happy here, Bandor's being such an ass I don't dare take her back to Pollux—and I STILL don't trust him not to do something stupid with or to her. . . .what the hell do I do?"

"It would be easier if Erik was of age," Keith said thoughtfully. "But, since he isn't, legally Romelle's at Bandor's mercy. Unless. . ." He eyed Lance speculatively. "Her husband would be able to overrule any authority Bandor has over her."

"What are you talking about?" Lance was confused. "Kind of hard for the Viking to do ANYthing, lying in the Castle crypt."

"Don't be dense." Keith thwacked him in the back of the head. "YOU could marry her. Then It would be YOUR wishes that prevailed legally, not Bandor's."

"Oh, no. No. No way." Lance's eyes were huge. "How can you even say that, Keith? I won't betray Sven that way!"

"How is it betraying him to do what you promised?" Allura countered softly. "Lance, you promised Sven on his deathbed that you would take care of Romelle; the best way to do that, to protect her from Bandor, is to be her husband."

Lance shook his head, hesitating. He could see the logic in his friends' words, but . . . Romelle was Sven's, utterly and completely. The Norwegian's death had not altered that. And . . . much as he himself loved her, had loved her since he first saw her, could he . . .? What right did he have, to take Sven's place? "I need to think," he mumbled, and bolted from the room. Keith half-rose to follow him, but dropped back into his chair at Allura's touch on his arm and Black's pressure on their bond.

It had been Lance's intention to go out to Red; he always did his best thinking in the cockpit, and his bonded partner could always be relied on to contribute his own piercing insights to whatever dilemma he faced. To his surprise, however, he found himself not in Red's cockpit, but in _Blue's._ As he blinked in bewilderment, a female voice filled his head. _Forgive me, Fireheart._ _But he insisted on speaking with you, and he is at his strongest here. So Alpha clouded your mind, directed you to me rather than to my brother._

Lance was even more confused. "_Who_ is stronger here? What the hell is going on?"

"_She means me, min bror. And I vant to talk to you about min elske."_ Lance froze, then turned to see Sven lounging against the back wall, arms folded in the pose that was so much a part of him.

Fear washed over Lance, and it took a moment for him to speak. "Uh, what about her? It. . it's not like I'm going to marry her or anything. I mean, she's your wife, she loves you, I wouldn't move in on her. I couldn't. You're better than—"

The Norwegian cut him off with a slash of a ghostly hand. "_Vhy vould you not marry her? I am dead, Lance. I cannot protect her any longer. And I am no fool; I know very vell dat you haf loved her since first you saw her. She vill mourn me, but come to love you in time. And dere is no von else I vould trust her to."_

Lance blinked. "Wait, you _want_ me to marry her? But. . .Sven, I can't."

Sven favored him with a withering look that lost none of its acidity for being transparent. _"No man _vants_ to see his vife marry anoter. But. . her brother is a danger to her, and de only vay she vill be safe is as your vife. I asked you on my deathbed, Lance; I ask you again; take care of min elske. My blessing you haf to do vhatever dat takes."_

Lance finally nodded. "If she agrees to it. . .I'll treat her like a queen, Sven. I swear it."

_"I know you vill. Und she vill agree; I haf already told her I vant her to do dis. Remember I luf you bot, min bror. Farval." _The spirit faded, leaving a stunned Lance McClain to sit for a good ten minutes before collecting himself and going in search of Romelle.

He found her in the guest room they were staying in, staring out the window at Blue's watery home. "Romelle?" he said softly, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her. "Sweetheart, we need to talk. . ."

Romelle leaned against his shoulder. "It's about Bandor and what he's doing, isn't it? Lance, how do I stop him?"

"There's only one way." Lance turned her to face him, putting his hands on her shoulders. "The way the law is, you're at the mercy of your closest adult male relative, and Erik's a good five years from being of age in the eyes of Polluxian law." He took a breath, green eyes looking into blue ones. "The only answer is that you need a husband. I. . . I'm not a tenth the man Sven was, and I never will be. But I promise I'll take care of you, be as good a husband as I can be. Will you marry me?"

The princess blinked up at him, stunned. Suddenly, a conversation with Sven in his last days came to her mind.

_She had been lying in his arms, comforting him as had become their habit, when he quietly spoke, hand still stroking her hair. "I do not haf much longer, elskede. Vhen de time. . .comes. . .promise me you vill not spend your life alone. Find somvon to love, dat vill luf you and keep you safe. Den I can rest in peace. Promise me?" He looked so worried that she agreed to keep him calm, then thought nothing more about it._

"This is what Sven meant," she murmured, then spoke louder. "Yes, I will marry you, Lance. I. . .I will always love Sven, but. . .he cannot protect me now. And I am afraid of what my brother will do." The tears which never completely left her started again.

Lance pulled her into his arms, holding her close and stroking her hair. "He will never harm you again," he promised. "I'll keep you safe, sweetheart. Always. I love you, you know that. I'll take care of you." He dropped a kiss on her blonde hair and walked them over to a chair, holding her and talking softly as she cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, they sought out Keith and Allura, telling them of their decision. The King and Queen of Arus were delighted for them, and quickly married them in a quiet ceremony witnessed only by the Voltron Force. As Lance kissed his new bride, he felt a chill breeze swirl around them and smiled softly, knowing his best friend was gone to his overdue reward. It was with unholy glee that he contacted Pollux, Romelle at his side, and informed King Bandor that _Mrs. McClain_ was no longer subject to his whims. The bantam-sized king had turned nearly purple, sputtering incoherently as they ended the transmission.

On Pollux, King Bandor's life had become a shambles, and it was all thanks to that no good, rebellious harpy that called herself his sister. It had started with a white-faced guard coming to him, the morning after he ordered her to come home like an obedient wench, to report that Sven's body had vanished from the crypt, in spite of the guard he had ordered posted and the security cameras. As he was processing that bit of information, his niece and nephew called, livid at his treatment of their mother. After pointedly telling him what they thought of him, they both formally renounced their positions as his heirs and disowned him. Worse, somehow word of his treatment of Romelle had leaked to the people, and there was a protest taking place on his own front lawn! And the harpy was out of his reach on Arus; the bastard she had thrown herself at had made it quite clear that Bandor no longer had a sister Romelle. Such things never would have been tolerated in his father's day, he grumbled to himself as he got into bed. Irenea was silent; she at least knew her place, unlike his shrewish bitch of a sister.

_He found himself in the middle of a howling blizzard, no landmarks to be seen. As he stumbled through the snow, shivering, he heard the deep, menacing laugh of his former brother in law. "King Bandor. .. . .you do not listen vell, do you? I varned you to leaf min Romelle alone. I told you it vould not go vell for you, if I had to return." Bandor looked around blindly; the voice seemed to come from everywhere. "What do you want from me?" he screamed .Sven laughed, materializing from the blizzard. "Isnt dat obvious, King Bandor? I vanted to kill you for vhat you did to Romelle; it seems now, though, dat letting you live is a far vorse punishment. Enjoy vhat you haf made of your life, if you can." The navigator faded from sight, leaving Bandor alone in the blizzard. Cold. . .it was so cold. . .and he couldn't find his way out. . .blindly he stumbled along, as the blizzard's fury increased._

Irenea tossed restlessly, unable to sleep. Finally she rolled over hesitantly to see if Bandor was having the same trouble. Her soft words ratcheted up into a shriek that woke the entire Castle. The first sentry to break in to the Royal bedchamber found the Queen screaming hysterically, huddled in a corner as far from the bed as she could get. King Bandor lay curled in a ball, ice cold and shivering, babbling random nonsense. The sentry would later swear that he heard Commander Holgersson's soft laughter in the room.


	9. Chapter 9

One month after they married, Lance and Romelle received word from Pollux that Bandor, still insane, had suffered a heart attack and died in his sleep, and that the Council wanted Romelle to take the throne. Romelle sat and stared at the message, unable to take it in. Lance sat down beside her, gently taking the paper from her hand. "Talk to me, honey. What are you thinking?"

She looked at him for a long moment before she finally _saw _him. "I . . . Lance, I can't! I'm not that strong, I'm not Bandor!"

"Thank God for small favors," Lance muttered, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Listen, it's up to you, you know that. But . . . you are and have always been the strongest person I know. Pollux needs a strong, kind ruler; I know you can be that ruler. And I will be right at your side to help you every step of the way."

Romelle shook her head. "You don't have to do that, Lance. Arus is your home; I'm not going to ask you to leave it. You've already done so much for me, and I don't know why."

"I'm your husband," Lance answered softly. "You don't _have _to ask me; my home is where you are. And as for why. . ." he hesitated a moment. "I wasn't going to tell you; I know Sven was your great love, and I can't hope to hold anything like the same position. But. . ." he took a breath. "Sweetheart, I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, all those years ago when the team snuck onto Pollux."

She stared at him dumbly; he nodded. "But . . . why didn't you say anything? Lance. .. ."

"Because the next time I saw you, Sven was your world, and you were his." Lance looked away. "I nearly cost him his life; I couldn't break his heart too. So I kept my mouth shut, stood at his side with a smile when he married you. I knew . . . he would be a better man for you than I ever could, at least then. And as long as you were happy, that was enough for me."

"You love me." Romelle said the words as if she'd never heard them before. "And you've just. .. stood by and watched me with Sven all these years?" She looked down at her hands, thinking back. How it was always Lance, more than any of the rest of the team, who was there to look after her when Sven was ill, or when he went mad with pain. She had written it off to Lance's fraternal relationship with Sven, but now . . . now it made far more sense.

"It was the best I could do," Lance said quietly. "That, and promising him every time he asked that I would take care of you when he couldn't." His green eyes finally met her blue ones. "I'm sorry I dropped all this on you; I don't ask you to feel the same way, and I won't let it change things if you don't want. I just. . .you deserved to know."

He started to get up and walk away; Romelle put a hand on his arm. "My poor Lance," she said softly. "I can't imagine what it's been like for you. I DO love you, you know that. I'm. . .just not sure I can love you THAT way. Give me time to sort through things?"

He managed a smile. "I'll give you the rest of my life, sweetheart. Take your time; I'm not going anywhere. Now. . .what do we do about this lovely piece of paper?" He waved the message gently.

"I have to try," Romelle frowned. "I have a duty to the people of Pollux. I don't know how good of a ruler I will be, but. . .you'll help me?" The last was said with a pleading look at Lance.

"Of course I will." Lance took her hands. "None of this will be easy, but we'll work it all out together. I know you can do this. And Keith and Allura will help us too. Come on, let's go tell them." He held his hand out to her, helping her to her feet, and together they went to find the King and Queen of Arus.

Two weeks later, Romelle and Lance were crowned Queen and Prince Consort of Pollux, with the Force and Romelle's children watching. Lance managed not to wince as the literal and figurative weight of the crown settled on his head, telling himself that he could bear anything that helped Romelle.

At the reception afterward, Erik and Mira cornered him, wearing identical Holgersson scowls. "So, what do we call you now?" Mira asked. "You're married to Mamma; Uncle Lance doesn't seem right."

"And on that note," Erik put in, "WHY did you marry Mamma, and why so fast? Could you not even let Pappa get cold before you moved in? I thought better of you, Lance."

"Now you wait one damned minute." Lance's voice was low, filled with the fire that had fueled Red Lion for so many years. "Not that I owe you ANY explanations, Erik Sven, but . . . I married Romelle to protect her. Polluxian law puts her under the control of her nearest adult male relative; when Sven died that became your damned Uncle Bandor. And given that he was putting her out in the street, I saw no other choice."

Erik opened his mouth to say something else; Mira elbowed him hard. "Thank you for taking care of her, Uncle Lance. We know you'll be good to her."

"Good as I know how to be, I promise," Lance said solemnly, then pulled her into a hug. "And I will ALWAYS be your Uncle Lance!"

Much later, Lance detached himself from the last of the well-wishers and wearily sought his bed, Romelle having pled exhaustion and left nearly an hour ago. Years of habit brought him to the corner guest room on the Royal wing. As he stumbled in and turned the lights on, he stopped dead to see Romelle sitting on the bed in a sheer nightgown, hair down around her shoulders, wearing a hopeful but uncertain expression. "Oh. . .uh, sorry, Melle. I. . .I'll find another room."

"No, don't." Romelle's soft voice stopped him as he backed towards the door. "I don't want to be in the Royal Suite, and the servants assumed we shared a room. I've been thinking about that, Lance. I haven't been fair to you. You have all the burdens of being my husband, but none of the benefits. That ends tonight." She stood and crossed the room to him, putting her delicate hands on his shoulders. "I want to be your wife, Lance. In every way."

Lance swallowed against a mouth gone dry, fighting his body's reactions. "Are you sure, Romelle? I want you to be sure; if you aren't ready, I'll understand."

"I'm sure." She stretched up and kissed him, arms twining around his neck. All of his reservations melted away as nearly thirty years of desire blazed up inside him, and he returned the kiss fervently, lifting her and walking them over to the bed. Gently he laid her back, leaving her just long enough to peel his dress uniform off before returning to her arms. They weren't twenty any longer, and certainly weren't virgins, but the love they made that night was no less passionate for age and experience. As he drifted to sleep hours later, Romelle cradled against him, Lance whispered a grateful prayer to his brooding Norwegian brother and whatever gods might be listening for seeing fit to grant him a chance he'd never thought he would have.


	10. Epilogue

Time was growing short; he could hear the change in her breathing as he sat at her bedside, holding her hand, fighting back his tears. "I love you, sweetheart, I always have, I always will," he whispered. "I wish you could stay. . ."

Faded blue eyes flickered open, locking on his green ones. "Lance," Romelle breathed, weakly squeezing his hand. "The. . .children? Grand. . . children?"

"Coming as fast as they can," he assured her. Erik was the Polluxian ambassador to the Alliance; Mirakel taught navigation at the Academy. Lance had called them home that morning, when the Royal Physician advised that Romelle was dying. "Just hold on; they'll be here in a few hours."

Romelle closed her eyes with a sigh. "I'll. . .try. Stay. . . with me."

"Not going anywhere," Lance promised, leaning over and kissing her forehead. "Love you, sweetheart." He sat for a long time, listening as her breathing hitched and slowed, thinking back on the thirty years they had spent together. Romelle had always quietly mourned Sven, but over time, she had come to love Lance, he thought, almost as much as she had loved the Norwegian. Gently he smoothed her silver-gilt hair back, his hand lingering on her cheek as his heart broke. "How do I say goodbye?" he whispered, "You're my world."

Romelle's eyes flickered and opened as she leaned into his hand. "You've been. . .so good to me," she breathed. "I love. . . you, Lance." Her hand came up shakily to cover his as her eyes fell shut once more; Lance turned his hand over and held hers, sitting silently as the hours wore on.

Late in the night, Erik and Mirakel arrived with their families and joined his vigil, insisting that he keep his place at Romelle's side. As the night wore on, Mirakel and Erik's wife put the little ones to bed, then came back to Romelle. She was in and out of awareness, saying little, but looking around the room eagerly every time she awoke. "She's looking for Pappa, isn't she?" Erik finally whispered to Lance, and the older man nodded.

"He promised to come for her, when the time came," Lance said softly. "Much as they loved each other, I don't think there's a power in the universe that could keep him from her now." He would have said more, but was interrupted by a gasp from Romelle.

"S-sven," she breathed, gazing raptly into a corner. Lance followed her gaze to see a flicker of blue and black. "At…last. . ."

The flicker moved out of the corner to the bedside, strengthening and resolving itself into the familiar form of her beloved Sven. "I told you I would come for you, _elskede_," he said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her hand. "Did you doubt me?" He smiled as she shook her head. "I have so much to show you; let's go home. . ."

Romelle looked around at her daughter, her son . . . her second love, all weeping unrestrainedly. "Love you. . .all. . .have to go. . .." Her eyes slid closed and she sighed, body relaxing as her spirit rose to stand at Sven's side. He slipped an arm around her waist, and the couple looked around lovingly at their family before fading from view.

As the sun came up, much later, a weary and grief-stricken Lance was persuaded to lie down. Mira led him to a guest room, pulling his shoes off and tucking a blanket around him before slipping out. Lance curled into the blanket, pulling the pillow close to soak up the tears he hadn't been able to stop. "She's gone," he whispered to the room. "What the hell do I do now? How do I live without her?"

_"Lance, sweetheart,"_ a feminine voice whispered. _"Please don't cry. . ." _He felt first one, then another presence settle on either side of him.

_"Ja, please don't," _said Sven's familiar accent. _"I haf been dead far too long to be sick to my stomach."_

Lance flew to a sitting position to find the ghosts of his love and his dearest friend on either side of him. "Wha—why are you still here?" he stammered. "I thought you left!"'

_"Nice to see you too, min bror,"_ Sven said dryly; Romelle just giggled. _"Ve vere about to cross, vhen ve realized. .. ve couldn't. Not vit so large a part of us left behind."_

_ "We need you, sweetheart,"_ Romelle whispered. _"And we know . . . we know you need us. So, we have an offer."_

"What sort of offer? And. . . yeah. I miss you both so much it hurts, already. .. ." Lance looked down at his hands, swallowing more tears.

Sven put a transparent hand on his best friend's shoulder. _"Ve talked about dis last night. Lance . . . you've had a good, long life. Ve vant you to come home vit us."_

Lance had taken direct laser fire that had stunned him less. "Go . . . home with you? But . . . I'm nowhere near dying!" He wanted this, oh gods how he wanted it, but . . . didn't see how it was possible, and didn't dare get his hopes up.

_"You don't have to be."_ Romelle tilted his chin up to look at her. _"The mind is a powerful thing, and. . . being connected to both of us, and us dead, all you have to do is will it to happen, and it will."_

Lance considered. The children and grandchildren would be devastated to lose him and Romelle at the same time; his teammates, with the exception of an increasingly senile Keith, would be hurt. Still . . . he was so tired. All his life had been for other people; wasn't it time to follow his own heart, especially if that meant following the other two parts of it? "Yes . . . please. I want to go with you. . ." He didn't try to hide the tears this time.

_"Den lie back down and close your eyes, min bror,"_ Sven said softly. _"Focus on letting go . . . think of it as taking off a flight suit that does not fit you. . ."_

The words were oddly hypnotic; Lance lay back against the pillows, eyes drifting shut, as he listened. Slowly he relaxed, feeling himself drift, then Sven's hand clasped his and pulled him to a sitting position. _"Vell done, min bror,"_ the Norwegian said with a smile; Lance somehow wasn't surprised to see his body still lying against his pillows as though asleep. Romelle squealed and wrapped him in a tight embrace; Sven chuckled softly and put his arms around them both, holding them for a long minute before the three of them faded from sight.

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Three days later, a grey coffin and a red one, bearing the coats of arms of both Arus and Pollux, were carried to a crypt beneath the Castle of Lions, where a blue one already rested. As Allura, Hunk, Pidge, and a surprisingly coherent Keith watched, the Voltron Force and cadets placed the grey casket in the middle of the crypt, then arranged the blue and red ones to either side of it. The interment was carried out in silence, with precise detail; the younger Force then marched out smartly, leaving the King and Queen with their teammates living and gone. Keith stood shakily from his wheelchair, shaking off a concerned Allura, and placed his hand on each casket in turn. "As in life, so. . .in death," he whispered. "Rest and be happy, my friends, my brothers, my sister. We will see you soon. . ." He dropped back into the chair and allowed Allura to wheel him out, Pidge walking beside him. Hunk pulled the crypt door closed, tears running down his cheeks as he touched the plaque it bore: _"Sven Holgersson. . ..Lance McClain. .. Romelle Holgersson-McClain. . . .If love is great enough, death is not goodbye. It is farewell until we meet again." _


End file.
